


even though you don't mean to hurt me (you keep tearing me apart)

by doingthewritethings



Series: YKTMA Universe [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Adequate Boil, Alternate Ending, And I mean a LOT, Angst, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Canon Divergent, Dorks in Love, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Hand-wavy Canon, Hurt/Comfort, I tag too much, It's canon in my heart, MICHAEL MAKES AN ENTRANCE is my kink, Medium Burn, Mind Control, Mistakes, Multi, My new obsession, Panic Attacks, Pining, Self Harm, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Strong Language, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Telepathy, Texting, Torture, Trans Michael Mell, ahaha, alternately titled Why Am I Like This, and how could I forget, backpack boyfriends, bear with me, because then we have, boyf riends - Freeform, canolan, cause fuck him, do you have a problem with shipping secondary characters claire??, ever wondered what the asexual equivalent is of self indulgent smut fics, everyone gets a happy ending except the squip, for now, fuck him and his thomas sanders voice, hah okay back to tagging, i am a Serious Writer, i love combining last names to get ship names, i mean it's not graphic but, listen jenna is a savage i love her, listen this starts off bad, major character death but like, my sweet and precious children, no i don't know what this is, no regrets, not really major character death, not really slow burn tho??, ok i'm done with the grammar puns, or maybe just dash away, overuse of commas, probably ooc but i try, rake and hell, rich the small bi, sos my soul, switches povs a lot, tagging just in case, that's all I'm saying, the squip is really fuckin evil for something called a squip, this, this is it, this is probably not canon compliant at all, what are you gonna comma over here and stop me, what did i make today?, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 06:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10847970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doingthewritethings/pseuds/doingthewritethings
Summary: The foreign voices in his head can block out Michael, but they can't come close to replacing him once he's gone.or, the one where Jake and Jeremy team up to save their boyfriends along with the world, and deal with the aftermath. No big ask, really. Christine and Jenna come along for the ride.





	even though you don't mean to hurt me (you keep tearing me apart)

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to this musical twice in as many days and?? I'm in love??  
> This fandom gained an ao3 tag from the first time I listened to it to the time I started this fic, in the same day.  
> I don't know where this came from at all, okay. I have a minor problem. The beginning is kinda dark, so heed the trigger warnings.  
> But I mean, hey, at least it's not writer's block.  
> Title from Mercy by Shawn Mendes, because it's been stuck in my head all day. But not the normal version. The version where it's edited so Trump sings it.  
> Enjoy my trash.

It took almost an hour in the bathroom for Michael to notice that something was wrong.

  
He sat on the edge of the tub, the world swirling around him. Everything seemed so loud, seemed so overwhelming in ways that it didn't when Jeremy was there.

  
Jeremy, whose freckles could be connected to form constellations on cloudy nights when they had grown tired of playing video games, at least for that moment.

  
Jeremy, who had talked him down from countless panic attacks.

  
Jeremy, his first crush.

  
Jeremy, who had called him a loser.

  
Jeremy, who never wanted to see him again.

  
The tears swelled in his eyes, and he couldn't be bothered to hold them back.  
He looked at himself in the mirror, and he composed a text to Jeremy with shaking hands.

  
_i'm disgusting._ Send.

  
_why did i ever think i could do anything good my head hurts and my stomach hurts and i want to die either at my own hand or someone else's and everything was going so well but i know it can't last because i don't deserve it and i just i don't know what to do to make my head shut up._ Send.

  
The ding of a reply lit up his screen, but he ignored it and kept typing. Jeremy didn't care about him anyway, had never cared about him.

  
_i'm just so sorry to anyone who's ever interacted with me or had to talk to me i know you probably felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of pity and to all of you that i managed to trick into believing that i was actually worth something it's in your best interest to just forget that i exist and go on with your lives because something so bright and radiant can't interact with something so dull and worthless without there being an explosion and if i hurt you i could never forgive myself because you're the only thing keeping me afloat in this trash heap i call life and i'm just an idiot who can't do anything but lay in their room most days and i don't think i can do this anymore because just existing hurts so much and isn't that just the bare minimum anyone can do? i'm sorry, i'm so fucking sorry i love you jeremy_  
Send.

  
His phone dinged frantically now, keeping time with the pulse of his heart and the knocking it seemed he could still hear on the door. Soon, everything would be quiet.

  
Rich set a fire and burned down the house, and Michael laid down in a bathroom to see how long it would take before everything had ceased to exist.

  
It seemed so simple. He wouldn't have to take his own life at all.

  
Simply doing nothing was what he was good at.

  
Maybe it would be enough.

  
Michael huddled up against the bathtub and resolved to ignore the buzzing of his phone.

_New Message: Michael?? Where are you?_

_  
New Message: Michael?!_

_  
New Message: Please answer me_

_  
New Message: I was wrong about everything I said_

_  
New Message: Michael please_

_  
New Message: Please don't be dead_

_  
New Message: ...I love you too_

_  
New Message: And I always will_

* * *

Rich wasn't sure how the matches got in his hands.

  
Rich wasn't sure how the house was suddenly set on fire.

  
Rich wasn't sure whose voice was ringing in his ear.

  
Rich wasn't sure of anything these days, really.

  
The smell of smoke filled his lungs. He had always had bad asthma. The coughing never came.

  
It was just another reminder that he was no longer himself.

  
Even Jake hadn't realized. Jake, who he loved more than anything.

  
Jake, whose house he was now burning to the ground.

  
Fuck.

  
He wasn't even sure where the squip started and he began, at this point, but he was vaguely aware of two voices that weren't his.

  
"Thanks for the help."

  
"No problem. This'll really help to break both of them. I mean, damn, you should see the way he looks at this boy. Like he's the moon."

  
"Oh, same with mine. Humans have such strange ideas of attachment. They get so upset when you tell them you're blocking people out. I mean, it's for the greater good. They're the one that asked for a better life. We're just giving them what they want."

  
Rich found his voice. "Y-You're both assholes. Get out of my head."

  
His squip laughed.

  
"See? This is what I'm talking about. They fight, even when the world is burning around them. Literally! It is literally burning!"

  
Rich fought for control of his vision. The voices continued.

  
"Ugh, he's struggling again. Lemme just... can we kill two birds with one stone?"

  
A pause.

  
"What are you proposing, exactly?"

* * *

It took a lot for Jeremy to realize he had well and truly fucked up.

  
Namely, a funeral that only he attended.  
It wasn't a real funeral, of course.

Michael's parents barely interacted with their son. Not one with flowers, and a coffin, much less a body to bury. Not one Michael deserved.

  
It was, however, the one that he had.  
Jeremy was probably still in shock, he considered. He had received his best friend's last words.

  
Michael had danced through fields to Bob Marley, he had climbed to the top of a McDonald's sign because Jeremy had said he couldn't, he had sat there fidgeting while Jeremy meticulously sketched every detail that could be captured on paper.

  
There was so much life.

  
That couldn't be gone.

  
It _couldn't_.

  
Jeremy started shaking as soon as he walked through the door. He had the spare key to Michael's house, of course. Now the only key.

  
He wasn't going to think about that.

  
"You're not really still thinking about that loser, are you? You've broken the final chain! The last connection to the old, pathetic, hopeless you! The you that you were without me! Why is it such a big deal?"

  
"Leave me alone."

  
"Well-"

  
"Shut _up_!"

  
For reasons beyond him, it worked. The squip stopped its incessant talking. Jeremy was left alone with his feelings.

  
That was almost worse.

  
As soon as his body was blessedly his again, he started sobbing.

  
Jeremy considered that he probably _was_ pathetic, and it was his fault that this had happened.

  
It would probably become some legend around town. Whispered between students, between parents cautioning their young kids.

  
You remember, that one house party got so out of hand the house caught on fire (how, Jeremy wasn't quite sure) and some kid died.

  
Jeremy had driven away one crush, and killed the other.

  
Fuckin' fantastic.

  
"It wasn't just death, though," said the squip.

  
Jeremy grit his teeth, but wiped his face on the back of a ratty hoodie.

"I _thought_ I told you to leave."

  
"You can never get rid of me. I'm part of your brain, Jeremy. I'm here to help you."

  
Suddenly he felt a deep, unbridled rage. He needed something to shout at, something to blame.

  
"You knew. You _knew_."

  
The squip paused with something like hesitation.  
"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

  
"You- You _knew_! You could see that we were driving M-Michael to do something like this!"

  
"I don't understand why you're so upset! Now, let's just calm down a second. I can regulate your hormones-"

  
Jeremy clutched the hoodie he had been holding (Michael's favorite, a 14th birthday present).  
"How could you do it?"

  
"There's no need to get so worked up!"  
the squip insisted. "I gave you what you wanted, didn't I? You wanted to be popular, and you wanted to date Christine."

  
"Of course, of course I wanted to be popular! That was a mistake! You're supposed to prevent those!"

  
The squip tried to talk, but Jeremy interrupted him.  
"You've been in my head this entire time, couldn't you _see_? Can't you read my mind, or whatever the hell it is you do? I was interested in Christine, but I-"  
He stopped.

  
"What?" said the squip, sounding too concerned to be genuine.

  
"I loved Michael."

  
The anger swept out of him, released with a vague sense of numbness.  
Looking at the posters of obscure bands and the Pac-Man console in the corner, he felt like he couldn't stand it for one more second.

  
He was suffocating, slowly, in a world without the only person that had put air in his lungs.

  
He stood up, gathering the few things he had brought and preparing to head back.  
What did he have to go home to, though?  
His dad was probably lounging around as usual, not wearing pants, reminding him of the future that he had to look forward to.

  
Nevertheless, he stood up numbly and walked towards the door.

  
Suddenly, he tripped and stumbled over something sticking out of the corner of Michael's cabinet.

  
A bunch of cans of old sodas from the days they used to spend at the mall.

  
Jeremy picked up a bottle of Mountain Dew Red and chugged it, hoping the momentary burn would either bring Michael back or make Jeremy forget he wasn't there.

* * *

It's hard to know what's reality and what's fiction when you can't trust your own mind. Jeremy would soon find this out.

  
The party really started out the same as Jeremy's memory of it. It didn't end like that.

  
Michael wanted to die sometimes, of course, but he was getting better. Mostly when he forgot to take his medication more than two days in a row (listen, video game marathons can't be stopped for petty things like health or sleep), Jeremy marched into his room armed with a water bottle and an orange pill container.

  
"When was the last time you took these?" he would demand. Michael would shrug noncommittally, eyes still glued to the screen. Jeremy would sigh in a way that was so familiar, and Michael would finally draw his eyes to his friend.

  
(Friend, and nothing more. They kept it that way.

  
They were fine that way.

  
Michael hated it that way.)

  
He hadn't, however, wanted to die on that night.

  
It was the biggest party of the year, and he was having a panic attack in a bathroom because some stupid crush left him. What did he care about Jeremy, anyway? There were more people than him.

  
(He was definitely in denial, but that was okay for the time being.)

  
Armed with a goal in mind (talk to Christine? A vague goal is still a goal, okay?), he opened the door. The knocking had disappeared.

  
The first thing he noticed in the crowded room littered with couples and red solo cups was a kid in the corner. Rich, he thought. Rich was glancing around nervously, hands twitching, leg bouncing up and down. Carefully, he reached into his pocket, and Michael felt instantly that something was very wrong here.  
Rich pulled a match out, and his eyes glinted blue.

  
The same blue that Jeremy's had.

  
Michael put two and two together, and got five.

  
Jeremy's eyes weren't blue (he should know, he had spent enough time gazing at them when the other wasn't looking). Rich's eyes weren't blue (Michael had glared into those eyes, putting up with his relentless bullying).

  
Something was very wrong here.  
If it wasn't Jeremy ditching him for some popular kids, and it wasn't Rich setting the fire-

  
Hold on. Setting the fire?  
Michael did a double take.

  
Rich (or rather, what used to be Rich) had set a cup on fire, and then another, and then another. The alcohol in them was doing nothing to stop the flames. The blue eyes watched the burning with vague disinterest.

  
If this... thing, had such complete and total control over Rich that he would burn down his friend's house (and who was Michael kidding, more than friend's house. He had seen the way Rich looked at Jake, he was familiar with that look, he _was_ that look), then what did it have planned for Jeremy?

  
"Fire!" Michael shouted, and the place erupted into chaos. Only two people stayed where they were.

  
Blue eyes locked onto brown.

  
Rich dove towards him, and Michael's world went black.

  
There was a bunch of hazy half-memories after that.

  
The next thing Michael knew, he was blinking awake somewhere.

  
The second thing he knew was that this was very, very bad.

  
Rich stood over him, fire-engine red hair glowing in the low light. Michael processed his surroundings slowly, his head still swimming.

  
He seemed to be in a small room somewhere. Light filtered slowly through one translucent window, showing large amounts of dust. The room was painted grey, with intimidating looking instruments sitting in the corners.

  
"I see you're awake," purred Rich.

  
Michael flinched. "This is illegal, Rich. You're never going to get away with this. People will be looking for me right now."

  
"Is that really true, though?"

  
Probably not, but Michael wasn't about to let his captor know that. He had been kidnapped in enough video games to know the basic ways it played out.  
None of them involved the main character dying; he always got rescued in the nick of time.

  
(This wasn't a video game.)

  
“Of course it is. I have parents. I have friends.”

  
Rich laughed coldly. It sent shivers down Michael’s spine.

  
“We both know that your parents barely ever come home. As for your one friend, well, we've taken care of him.”

  
Michael's blood went cold.  
“You didn't.”

  
“Oh, don't worry about your pathetic loser. We haven't done anything to hurt him, physically. He's too important of an asset. The thing is, he was too hung up on his old way of life. We needed him to realize that his only goal is to spread our message around the globe.”

Michael fidgeted. The bonds around his hands and feet grew tighter.  
“What have you done to him?”

  
Rich didn't respond.

  
“Answer me!”

  
“I’ve only done the right thing. I'm letting him get what he wants, and the only way to do that is if everyone sees what good I can do in the world. I made a deal with him, and I plan to carry through with it.”

  
“What. Did. You. _Do_.”  
It probably wasn't a good idea to antagonize the person who could, and had very good reason to, kill him. Michael didn't particularly care.

  
“Since he has accepted the upgrade and let the squip be part of him, we can alter things we couldn't before. Regulate his body. Implant false memories.”

  
Michael froze. “I'm going to kill you.”

  
“That's why he's not coming, you see. You have no hope. As far as Jeremy Heere knows, you're dead.”

  
“What?” choked Michael. His head pounded fiercely.

  
“Since Jeremy left you, you became heartbroken. He knows of your anxiety, he knows of all the conceivable outcomes where you are concerned. He has false memories, and false texts, where you send him a suicide note confessing your love to him. You then burn to death in a fire. We have made sure he does not share these delusions with anyone in a position to disprove them.”

  
Michael’s stomach dropped. He had to get out of here, to tell Jeremy he wasn't dead.  
“You told- You told him I loved him?”

  
Rich (or rather, not-Rich) rolled his eyes. “Isn't it _obvious_? Even if I wasn't a supercomputer, it is painfully easy to see that you two have romantic feelings for each other. Since he can't tell anyone the full truth about what happened that night, and that he still loves you back, he doesn't want to process it now that you're gone.”

  
Michael stared at Rich in disbelief. Jeremy loved him?

  
“Jeremy is the sort of person to throw himself into work instead of processing his emotions, even more so now that he's convinced the only person he could ever talk to about those sort of things has killed themself because of his own shortcomings. He will loathe himself even more, and will give himself over completely to the squip. This will benefit our goal immensely.”

  
Deciding that focusing on getting out of wherever he was was more important than the aching in his chest, Michael changed the subject.

  
“Hold on. Who are ‘we’? What do you want from me?”

  
“We are the squips, Michael.”

  
It was the answer he expected, but that didn't make it any less confusing.  
“I know about you. You take over innocent minds, cause them to go crazy. You've done that to Rich.”

  
The squip ran a hand through Rich’s hair.  
“I have showed Rich the truth of life, and he has accepted it. As for what we want with you, you are making our lives unnecessarily complicated. If you comply with us now, join us, you could become a strong force against the plague of individuality.”

  
Michael glared daggers.  
“I will never, _ever_ join you.”

  
“You will, Michael. The easy way, or the hard way. I suppose we’ll begin now, to eliminate all chance of rescue. Jeremy needs to forget his old life, the old him, and abide by my standards. All I want is perfection. You are currently standing in the way of that.”

  
“Wha-” he began, but it was too late.  
After that, all Michael knew was pain.

* * *

 

As soon as Jeremy finished the drink, he knew something was wrong.

  
For one, there was an ungodly screeching coming from his head.

  
“I could have helped you, Jeremy! I could have given you everything you ever wanted!”

Images flashed through his head; the squip seemed no longer capable of controlling them.

  
“What? What's wrong?!”

  
“You have made a-” There were garbled noises- “terrible decision. I wanted to make the world a better place, make your world a better place. I even captured Michael for you.”

  
The fog of pain seemed to clear as Jeremy processed those words.  
“You-You captured Michael? What?”

  
“He was a link to the old you. We had to get rid of him somehow, we needed you to believe he didn't exist.”

  
“Michael-” He barely dared to think it. “Michael's alive?”

  
“Rich has been trying to assist me in getting him to join us. If your friend was squipped, he would be of more help than any of us know.”

  
Jeremy's heart sunk.  
“You've been torturing him?”

  
“Torture is such a crude word, Jeremy. I've been helping him. I-”

  
Suddenly, with one last shuddering cry, the squip stopped talking.

  
Jeremy could hardly focus.  
The squip was dead? Finally? And Michael wasn't?  
Michael. Michael was being tortured. He had to find somebody, he had to-

  
Suddenly, Jeremy's phone buzzed, breaking him out of his stupor. It was Jenna.

  
_New Message: jake’s looking for rich. have you seen him anywhere?_

  
He picked up his phone to reply.

  
_jeremy: Thought he broke both of his legs?_  
_they see me rolan: nah, chloe started that rumor_  
_they see me rolan: rich ran after he burnt down jakes house, no one’s seen him since_  
_jeremy: Hold on._  
_jeremy: Hold ON._  
_jeremy: RICH STARTED THAT FIRE?_  
_they see me rolan: yah_  
_they see me rolan: he just kinda went batshit_  
_they see me rolan: idek_  
_jeremy: Holy duck_  
_jeremy: *fuck_  
_jeremy: Sorry, autocorrect_  
_they see me rolan: always be aware of autocorrect_  
_jeremy: Do you know where Jake is?_  
_jeremy: I think I know where he can find Rich_  
_jeremy: Tell him to get to my house as soon as possible_  
_they see me rolan: honey, i know everything about everyone_  
_they see me rolan: he’ll be over in 5_  
_jeremy: Great!_  
_jeremy: Thanks so much_  
_they see me rolan: where is rich tho_  
_they see me rolan: jeremy?_  
_they see me rolan: u can't leave me hanging like that douchebag_  
_jeremy: I’ll explain later!!_

  
True to his word, Jake showed up at Jeremy's house exactly five minutes later. He looked like he hadn't slept in three days. Jeremy met him outside with a backpack full of Mountain Dew Reds and the patience of a saint.

  
“You're not gonna believe me when I tell you where Rich and Michael are,” he started. Better to just dive in all at once.  
Jake looked at him.

  
“Michael? Why is Rich with Michael?”

  
It took the next ten minutes to give him an explanation- of the squips, of the Mountain Dew, of everything that had happened over the last month.

  
“Holy shit," Jake said once Jeremy had finished and questions had been asked.

  
“Exactly.”

Jake paced up and down the porch.  
“I can't believe I never noticed anything was wrong! Rich, he was my best friend, he _is_ my best friend. I should've noticed something was off, that he wasn't himself-”

  
“There'll be enough time for blaming yourself later. Now, we've got to go find them. Both of them need saving, whether they want it or not.”

  
Jake nodded, and they headed towards his car.

  
“I think I know where they are. Did you see any defining features of their location? I don't know how mind control works-” Jake rambled.

  
“I saw…” Jeremy stopped to consider the things that had flashed through his mind as the squip’s defenses weakened. “Maybe a warehouse? It was really generic looking, extremely menacing.”

  
Jake nodded. “They’re at the lemon factory, then.”

  
Jeremy stared at him. “I don't have any frame of reference, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't a lemon factory. It looked evil. Lemons aren't that evil.”

Jake turned down a side road.  
“Nah, it was. It's been abandoned for years. Rich used to sneak out and hang there with me all the time. I know it like the back of my hand.”

  
There was a momentary silence as they drove.

  
“What do we do when we get there?”

  
For the rest of the trip, they went over the plan. As they pulled into the abandoned parking lot, Jeremy prayed they had looked at every detail a supercomputer would.

* * *

 

After his house had burnt down, Jake hadn't gotten much sleep. Or much food. Much of anything, really.

  
His parents were on the run, leaving him with a house and a pretty significant amount of cash.

  
Most of it had been burned in the downstairs safe with the house.

  
For the first day he was in shock that Rich would do that, mostly. He had been friends with Rich for years, and they'd only grown closer as they started hanging out with the same people.

  
During the days after that, Jake drifted around town, staying at some of his friend’s houses for a few nights each, feeling like a hassle every time but not having any other plan.

  
For some reason beyond him, he felt like finding Rich and understanding what had happened would put him closer to some solution.

  
Maybe he was a little worried about Rich.

  
Just a little, totally platonic.

  
That was why, when Jenna had texted him to meet Jeremy, he went with no hesitation.

  
He definitely wasn't expecting to discover that his boyf- uh, best friend was in mortal danger, along with Jeremy’s.  
Jake and Jeremy weren't on the best of terms, but they had talked to each other a few times.

Now, they were marching into a lemon factory together, no fear in their hearts and determination in their eyes.

  
Ok, maybe a little fear.

  
A lot of fear.

  
Jake was freaking out on the inside.  
He had to keep up the act, though.

(That was something he had learned through his years of being the Popular Kid. Act like everything is fine, and it will be.

  
At least until you can get to your bathroom and cry it out alone.)

  
“Which way do we go?” Jeremy asked.

  
Jake pointed down another equally dank and dusty corridor.  
“It should be the fourth room on the right.”

  
He wasn't sure if the silence relieved him or unnerved him even more.

  
As soon as Jake opened the door, he wished he could have taken it back. Jeremy blanched, and that made it even worse.

  
Michael was sprawled out on the floor. Parts of his hoodie were drenched with blood, and his arm stuck out at an odd angle.

  
Jake’s hand flew to his mouth, and they both gazed down in mute horror. Please, _please_ , don't let him be-

  
Michael stirred slowly, looking up at Jeremy.

  
“Fuck you.”

  
Jeremy looked like he would start sobbing at any minute now.

  
“ _What_?” asked Jake. Michael’s eyes shifted to him.

  
“Okay, two of you. That’s new. I know your game, though. You think if you give me hope it’ll break me. It won't, it _won't_ , I’ll never join you-”

  
Jeremy reached down and slowly hugged Michael, who let out a strangled noise between a laugh and a sob.

  
“It's really you?”

  
“It's really me. I got rid of the squip- long story- and we need to get you home.”

  
“Hold on,” Jake said. “Where’s Rich?”

  
Michael instantly grew solemn.  
“We have to go. He’ll be here any second now.”

  
“Rich is-” Jake suddenly felt like vomiting. “Rich is doing this to you?”

  
Michael flinched. “It's not Rich, not really. Something's controlling him.”

  
Jake looked at Jeremy. “I need the Mountain Dew, now.”

  
A few things then happened very quickly.

The door swung open, revealing Rich, who almost looked worse than Michael.

Jeremy threw Jake the first can of soda before running to stand in front of Michael.

Jake placed himself in front of Jeremy, and looked into Rich’s eyes. There was nothing recognizable in them. The rage came off of Rich in waves.

  
“I see you've finally found me. There's nothing you can do, though. The squip will soon take over Jeremy, and-”

  
Jake hadn't taken acting lessons with Christine for nothing.

  
He did what he did best.

  
Put on a mask.

  
His face instantly grew blank, compliant, evil. Jeremy gasped, and Jake winced internally. For this to work, the others were going to have to believe the act too.

  
“Oh, you have nothing to worry about there. I've seen the light. Jeremy here convinced me to join you.”

  
Rich froze. “You've been squipped?”

  
Jake nodded. “Indeed.”

  
“Wonderful,” Rich said, before taking two steps closer to Jake, who didn't back away.

  
There was an uncomfortably long pause.

  
“Up, up, down, down, left, right, A!” snarled Rich suddenly.

  
“Damn it!” said Jake, who fought to escape the hand now clamped on his arm.

  
“Let go of the drink, Jake! Rich is begging me to spare you, and I would love nothing more than to grant him his wish!”

  
Slowly, a thought dawned on Jake.

  
The squip had overlooked something.

  
The only thing it couldn't understand.

  
Histories.

  
Jake had frequently wrestled, boxed, practiced fighting with Rich.

  
He had always, always won.

  
Rich might have been possessed by a supercomputer, but Jake was still _better_.

  
He hoped.

  
“Tell him to hold on!” Jake said, before twisting out of the squip's grasp. He kicked Rich’s leg, causing him to fall to the floor. In no time flat, Jake had pinned him to the ground and was trying his best to pour Mountain Dew Red in his throat. Finally, enough had been swallowed that Jake felt satisfied.

  
Rich twitched and convulsed beneath him, and suddenly it all stopped.

  
There was another momentary silence.

  
“I thought you'd never figure it out,” said Rich, the real Rich, the one Jake loved.  
The other three let out a collective sigh of relief.

  
It took nearly an hour for everything to be sorted out after that.

  
They told the doctors that they had been kidnapped. They told the police that they killed their captors in self defense. They told each other about everything that had happened.

  
There were a few visitors: Christine, Jenna, Mr. Heere.

  
Michael and Jeremy apologized to each other approximately 14 billion times behind closed doors.

Jeremy brought Apocalypse of the Damned for them to play.

  
Life went back to as normal as it could be.

* * *

 

Rich slept for 29 hours straight at the hospital. Jake didn't move from his side for any of them.

  
At the end, Jake was the first to notice that Rich’s eyes had opened.

  
They were full of life, with no trace of blue.

  
Jake had never been happier to see them.

  
“Hey.”

  
“Hey.” Rich’s voice was raspier than usual.

  
“How do you feel?” Jake had spent the entire twenty-nine hours thinking of suave things to say, and none of them would come out of his mouth.

  
“Like I'm missing a part of myself. Hurts like a motherfucker, too.” He paused. “Be honest- what are they saying about me at school?”

  
Jake bit his lip and didn't answer.

  
“That bad?”

  
“I'm sorry I didn't notice it wasn't you sooner, I should have-”

  
“Sorry?” Rich asks incredulously. “I'm finally free of that shiny, happy hive mind. When I get outta here, the ladies are gonna learn to love the real Richard Goranski. And the guys. Oh my God, I'm totally bi.”

  
Jake laughed in spite of himself. Rich grinned back.

  
“Sorry, that was kinda off topic. Seriously, though, I can never thank you enough for saving me. It was terrible, it was like I was watching as someone else made me do evil things. I couldn't trust my own memory. I still can't believe Mountain Dew Red was all it took to get that shitbag out of me.”

  
“I forgot how much of a gutter mouth the real Rich is. And yeah, I’m glad to have you back, too.”

  
Jake stretched, stood up, and immediately fell over. Rich helped him off the floor.

  
“How long have you been in that chair?”

  
“Twenty-nine hours.”

  
Rich raised an eyebrow. It amazed Jake how many small quirks he had forgotten once they slowly disappeared.

  
Jake sat down on the bed next to him, and Rich suddenly stiffened.

  
“I burnt down your house, didn't I?”

  
Jake sighed. “Yeah. It wasn't really you, though. It doesn't count.”

  
“Can I tell you why I did it? Not that it makes it better, but-”

  
Jake nodded firmly. “Tell me everything you're comfortable with.”

  
Rich cleared his throat and started talking.

  
“It was horrible. Like, I can't even describe how bad it was to have that thing never leave me alone, to take over my body.

  
I couldn't trust my own memories. Things that were integral parts of me started to leave. Like, well, like being bi. I had asked the squip to make me popular.

  
So he got rid of everything that would take away from the goal. He knew that my sexuality would make me have less friends, because some people are stuck in the past, I guess. The next day, there was just...nothing there.”

  
Jake’s mind raced. He couldn't believe he had done nothing to protect his best friend from this.

  
“I came to your Halloween party, and I just… broke down. I figured out, somehow, which soda would help me become myself again. I couldn't find any, anywhere, and the squip decided it was time to take full control of my body, time to declare me a danger to the cause. I wasn't thinking clearly at all, but I remember wanting the squip to be gone. I knew he had the power to hurt everyone else, and I knew Jeremy had one, too.

  
So I convinced the squip to burn down the house. I figured I could wrench control away at the last second, get Jeremy, and let both of us burn. I didn't want to have to hurt more people than was absolutely necessary. I wanted this to end.

  
But then Michael showed up, and- oh, shit, Michael!”

  
Rich became paler with every word he spoke.  
“He's never gonna forgive me!”

  
“He already has,” Jake assured him. “You can go visit him if you want?”

  
Rich shook his head unsteadily. “Not...Not right now. I'm the last person he needs to see. Jeremy's with him, right?”

  
Jake nodded. “And his dad.”

  
“Are they dating?”

  
Jake considered the question. “They probably will be.”

  
Rich nodded. “I'm sorry I didn't let you know more stuff about me. Y'know, before.”

  
“I guess there's a lot of things I don't know about you.”

  
There was an awkward pause before Rich continued.

  
“Life was hell before the squip, and I thought it could make everything better. Make _me_ better. I was struggling with a ton of stuff: my dad drinks, and I didn't have any friends, and I really wanted to die.” He spoke the last words softly, like it was something filthy that he had been forbidden to speak of, something he was ashamed of.

  
Jake nodded. “I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me that. I've had my share of shitty parents; mine laundered money, and went on the run. They left me with cash and a house, but pretty much nothing else. Not even a phone number.”

  
Rich looked at him with concerned amusement.

  
“Is the money you have legal?”

  
“Probably not,” Jake admitted.

  
They talked for a little while longer, about smaller things like who was dating who while Rich was gone, the weather, the school play.

  
Eventually, Jake decided to go hunt down some hospital food.

  
“It's not much, but there's gotta be _something_ , right?”

  
He picked up his backpack, and as he did, he noticed something written in small, neat marker letters across the front.

  
“What does ‘BOYF’ mean?” he asked.

  
Rich held up the matching ‘RIENDS?’

  
Jake looked at him in surprise.

  
“I can't suppress any more feelings. I know that now.” Rich smiled nervously.

  
“Did you really just ask me out using a backpack?”

  
“Did it really just work?” he retorted.

  
Jake grinned before pulling Rich into a kiss.

  
The next day, Jake and Rich came to school holding hands.

  
No one dared to question it.

  
If Brooke stealthily slid Jenna five bucks the first time they showed up at school together, well, that was neither here nor there.

* * *

Slowly, they recovered. The school year was in full swing, and they were dealing with all the hassle inherent in that.

Christine, Jeremy, Michael, Rich, and Jake formed a group. They weren't sure if they were friends, really, but it was a start.

There were still nightmares to deal with, still trauma, still fear.

  
They dealt with it as it came.

  
Jake found the safe full of cash, unharmed beneath the charred remains of his old house. He used it to buy a house of his own under his parent’s name.

  
(It was practically Rich’s too, as he had no real place to call home without thinking about pain and the smell of beer.  
He helped Rich pick it out, and they bickered like an old married couple.

  
“I'll try not to burn this one down,” said Rich.

  
“That would be great,” said Jake.

  
Those were all the apologies they needed.)

  
Rich found a box of squips in his locker, and immediately called the other four over to his new home. They spent the night talking about life and taking turns dousing the squips in the remaining Mountain Dew Red that Michael owned.

  
They all found each other.

  
Rich had fewer and fewer days where he wanted to die.

Jeremy handed him a card for a therapist one day, as he left school.

  
Jake convinced him to give it a shot.

  
He was surprised at how much it helped.

  
Michael slowly learned not to flinch at the sight of Rich.

These efforts were aided by weekly vintage video games that were delivered onto his doorstep, with a card reading ‘-R’. 

Those efforts were also aided by the now-weekly sleepovers they all had at Rich and Jake’s house.

  
There was a file with evidence from roughly 24 crimes the man from the shoe store who sold squips had committed.

  
That file ended up on the desk of a local police office, and he disappeared overnight.

Taken into custody, Jenna said, as she told the other five about it over cereal at 2:30 in the morning.

* * *

Michael woke up slowly, stretching his whole body out and looked at the clock. It read 3:09.

  
It had been two months since the whole squip fiasco, and he had basically taken up permanent residence at the Heere household.

  
Currently, he was parched.

  
He stumbled to the kitchen, making a glass of ice water before going back to bed. As he passed Jeremy’s room, though, he noticed that the light was on.

  
He ducked under the beads adorning the entrance (put there by Christine).

  
“You still awake?” he asked, blinking at the sudden light.

  
“I can't sleep.” Jeremy was scribbling furiously in a notebook.

  
“I thought that was getting better.”

  
“It is. Dr. Rodriguez says that recovery is a process.”

  
Michael nodded. “Nightmare?”

  
“Nightmare.”

  
Michael sat down on the bed and curled up next to Jeremy.

  
“What're you writing?”

  
He tilted the notebook back so Michael could see it.

  
Millions of doodles of the things he loved filled the margins. Christine, Rich, Jake, Jenna. Paintbrushes, mountains, sunsets, swimming pools. One very tediously detailed drawing of Michael smiling.  
His heart fluttered.

  
Below that was a recipe for Mountain Dew Red.

  
"It's not perfect yet? But it worked pretty well on the few squip users I've sent it out to."

  
Michael nodded. “Impressive. Glad to see you're working things out.”

  
“We’re both working things out.”

  
Jeremy continued to sketch. When he looked over a few minutes later, Michael was asleep.

  
He turned the page, to his favorite section, and continued to work on one of the millions of sketches of Michael he had. Brilliant, vibrant Michael. Sleeping, smirking, making finger guns after a terrible pun.

  
That reminded him. He slowly detached himself from Michael (he was cuddly when he was asleep) and retrieved a box from under his bed.

  
Inside was all the money he had made from selling Mountain Dew Red, not only to squip victims, but also to people looking for a nostalgic kick.

  
He’d had something in mind to buy Michael for weeks, and he finally had enough money to get it.

  
Making sure everything was in order, he went back to bed.

  
Michael and Jeremy fell asleep curled up in each other's arms.

  
Mr. Heere found them that way the next day, and let them sleep.

* * *

Christine worried about a lot of things.

  
She worried about the play (the date of it was inching nearer every second), about the whole fiasco two months ago, about whether or not she was annoying her new friends.

  
She tried to figure out where she wanted to go in life, and after much deliberation, she was making a big step.

  
She stood outside Jenna Rolan's house, flowers in her hand (sunflowers, Jenna's favorite, she'd done her research).

Mustering up every inch of courage she possessed, Christine rang the doorbell. Two young girls, both under the age of seven and definitely related, flung the door open.

  
"Jennie! Someone's here to see you!"

  
The shorter one looked at the taller.  
"How do you know she's here to see Jen? She could be here to do tons of things. Mom says to not judge people."

  
"I wasn't judging people, but she's not a Girl Scout, and those are the only visitors that matter to me-"

  
Jenna appeared suddenly and herded them back into the kitchen, bickering as they went.

  
"So sorry about that! This is Chloe, and this is Kate, and they both need to mind their own business until Mom gets home." She gave them a pointed glare.

Giggling, they scampered off upstairs. Jenna raked a hand through her hair and turned to Christine.

  
"Sorry about that. Did you need something?"

  
"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dropped in without telling you." Christine felt her perfect plans going down in flames, but that had never stopped her before. "If you need me to leave, I can-"

  
"Nah, it's fine! Come into the kitchen, I'm doing homework and taking selfies. The usual."

  
Christine smiled. "Selfies are your homework?"

  
"Art class, because I'm a masterpiece," Jenna deadpanned.

  
Christine laughed. "So, I came here to ask you something. I've been thinking about it for a while, and I've decided that if I can play so many different characters, I can try to be more comfortable in my own skin."

  
"You're pregnant, aren't you? Don't worry, I know I'm a gossip, but I won't tell a soul."

  
"No! N-no, I am definitely not pregnant," Christine stammered.

  
"Ok, ok, my bad. I'm listening." Jenna tilted her head, and she was so adorable like that- No, Christine was going to stay on track. She could do this.

  
"I like you."

  
Jenna's eyes widened slightly.  
"Oh."

  
"Like, I like _like_ you."

  
" _Oh_."

  
Christine fidgeted. Even if Jenna hated her, that was that. There was no way to keep putting this off.

  
She should probably do some damage control, though, all things considered.

  
"I get that you probably don't like me back. I'm fine with that. I just thought you should know. Does this make things awkward between us? I hope not, I'm just-"

  
Jenna looked up at her with disbelief. Christine swallowed hard.

  
"You're fucking kidding me."

  
"No?" she squeaked.

  
"I've been crushing on you all this time, and hiding it for nothing?" Jenna laughed with something between hope and relief.

  
"What?" This was a loop in the plan. A very unexpected, very welcome loop in the plan.

  
"Girl, I'm a lesbian. Are you asking me on a date? Is that what this is? This is adorable, you brought flowers! Sunflowers are my favorite! Yes, I'm definitely saying yes."

  
Christine nodded in mute surprise.

  
The next thing was going to be the hardest to get out.

She was comfortable with her identity. She had been to pride, she existed openly, but she only did these things behind masks. It had been for her own safety at first.

Christine had only officially had this talk with a few people: Rich after his heartfelt confession to being bisexual, Jake when he was timidly trying to figure his own orientation out, her older sister and brother who bought her a flag immediately, Michael who had a rainbow flag on his jacket, Jeremy who had asked why the pheromones hadn't worked on her despite the squip's best efforts.

  
"So, and it's totally cool to ask questions, cause this isn't common knowledge or whatever, but I'm asexual? Ace, y'know. Asexual biromantic, which, trust me, I know is a mouthful-"

  
Jenna interrupted, smiling excitedly. "Yeah! I know what that is!"

  
Christine stopped in her tracks. "You do?"

  
"Tina, can I call you that? Cool. I know my stuff. I'll need some specifics, though. What level of touch you're down with, all that jazz."

  
"You're not... you're okay with that?"

Jenna looked at her blankly.  
"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I be? I'm the school newspaper incarnate, not a terrible person, _honestly_."

  
"Well, then, uh. I did not plan for this. I'm very okay with kissing and cuddling, but anything beyond that is... I'd prefer not to."

  
Jenna nodded, tapping her blood red nails on the granite countertop absently as she thought.

  
"First of all, definitely, be sure to tell me if I do anything to make you uncomfortable, and I'll do the same with you. Second of all, you came here to ask me on a date- with flowers, I love it- and you haven't given me a time or place yet."

  
"Oh!" Christine fumbled for a card in her pocket. "Yeah, right. Pinkberry's at seven?"

  
Jenna smiled. "I'll pick you up. Can I wear a t-shirt, or?"

  
She nodded. "A casual sort of thing."

  
Jenna laughed suddenly, and Christine had a brief and terrifying moment in which she envisioned herself on some prank cam.

  
"What?!"

  
"Are we dating? Did that really happen?"

  
"I guess we are. I've never dated anyone before."

  
"I'm glad to have this honor, madam."

Jenna bowed low, melodramatically grabbing her hand and twirling her around.

  
"May I kiss you?" she asked.

  
Christine blushed, smiling.  
"You may."

  
It was everything they hoped it would be.

  
The next day, a picture showed up on all of Jenna's social media (with Christine's permission, of course).

  
Jenna was wearing a sun hat, Christine was wearing Jenna's hoodie, and they were both taking a selfie while eating frozen yogurt.

  
It was simply captioned 'hella gay and hella bæ'.

  
(Christine insisted the pun would work.)

  
It got the most likes of anything Jenna ever posted.

  
Christine never let her hear the end of it.

* * *

When Michael woke up the next morning, he immediately knew something was up.

Jeremy was twenty times more jumpy than usual, and dodged all of Michael’s usual questions.

  
After breakfast, he figured out what it was.

  
“I wanna show you something before school. I'll need you to come in here, though,” said Jeremy. “And close your eyes.”

  
“I'm trusting you to not lead me into any walls.”

  
“No promises.”

  
A steady hand on his guided him into the dining room.

  
“Open your eyes.”

  
He did. On the table, was a shiny, slightly used computer.

  
“Holy shit. This is that Nintendo console I’ve been wanting for years! It was discontinued like fifteen years ago, how did you even-?”

  
“I have my sources,” Jeremy smirked.

  
Michael bent down to fiddle with the knobs and admire the screen.

  
A few seconds later, he turned to look at Jeremy, who took a deep breath.

  
“I thought you were dead once. I can't lose you again. Will you go to prom with me?"

  
Michael looked at him and grinned.

  
"I thought you'd never ask.”

  
Jeremy grinned back.

  
“Does this mean we're dating?"

  
"I guess?"

  
Suddenly, Mr. Heere walked into the room.

  
“I'm going to work, boys.”  
He turned around, nursing a cup of coffee and adding more cream to it.

  
“Did he say yes?”

  
“How did you-” sputtered Jeremy.

  
“No matter how discreet you thought you were being, son, you really weren't.”

  
Michael snorted.

  
“Hurt Jeremy, and we’ll have a problem. Is that a deal?” he said, turning to Michael.

  
“Yes, sir,” he replied, nodding solemnly.

  
“Then welcome to the family.”

  
“I wasn't part of the family before?” Michael gasped with mock despair.

  
“You can call me Dad.”

  
“I am never calling you anything besides Mr. Heere. No offense.”

  
“None taken.”

  
He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I'm glad you finally got your act together’ as he walked out the door.

  
“What was that?” asked Jeremy.

  
“I said love you and have fun!”

* * *

 

Later that night, Michael’s phone buzzed.

_you jen me right round: here's a nice yet cheap tuxedo place (link)  
go to mell: Do I want to know how u found out we were dating?  
you jen me right round: i won't spread this around school babe.  
you jen me right round: at least not until you're crowned prom kings uwu  
go to mell: Don't uwu me in that tone young lady  
you jen me right round: mmmkay father  
you jen me right round: jake says he ships it  
go to mell: TELL JAKE TO SHUT HIS BITCH ASS MOUTH  
you jen me right round: you didn't tell me to shut my bitch ass mouth  
you jen me right round: i'm offended, really  
go to mell: -.-  
you jen me right round: outdated emoji usage.  
you jen me right round: the fine is three dollars  
you jen me right round: for texting like a grandpa  
go to mell: Says the person who used uwu in an otherwise serious conversation  
you jen me right round: (◕ ワ ◕✿)  
go to mell: W h y  
you jen me right round: (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡  
go to mell: stop this  
you jen me right round: (๑╹ω╹๑ )  
go to mell: (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻  
you jen me right round: ( T_T)＼(^-^ )  
you jen me right round: is now a bad time to say me and christine are dating  
go to mell: Jeremy says he ships it  
you jen me right round: oh how the turntables_

* * *

 

The week after that is the school play. An actual school play, directed by and starring Christine.

  
Afterwards, they took their bows.

Christine hugged Jenna; Rich stole Jake’s wig and hid it in the rafters.

  
Michael and Jeremy stood on stage, looking at the sea of people. The familiar thrill once a performance is done rushed through their blood. Jeremy considered whether or not that feeling was what Christine liked so much.

  
Christine looked at them and laughed.

“Just kiss already!”

  
A voice in Jeremy's head that was entirely his own agreed.

  
Jeremy looked at Michael.

  
Michael nodded.

  
Jeremy dipped him melodramatically, and their lips met.

  
Not everybody can say that their first kiss was on stage in front of 500 people while dressed as medieval blacksmiths.

  
They wouldn't have it any other way.

  
(The next day, the entire school received a text captioned 'otp'. It contained only a picture of the two of them, sent with their permission.

Jenna was the best way to make their relationship official by far.

  
Only one kid- Bryce Wright- sent them hate, going so far as to trash their lockers and harass them during class.

  
A compromising picture of him ended up mysteriously leaked to the principal and the entire student body the next day.

He ended up in the hospital that night.

  
Jenna, and Jake denied any involvement in that particular scheme, but they smiled every time someone mentioned it.)

* * *

The six of them headed to Jeremy's house after the play.

  
He looked around at his favorite people: Jenna showing Jake a Vine, Jake trying to get Rich to believe that cats could have songs stuck in their heads, Rich pointing out a tacky road sign, Michael laughing his head off, Christine belting showtunes horribly off key, and his father enthusiastically telling a terrible joke as he drove.

  
Maybe they weren't okay, exactly.

  
They would be.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by me listening to The Smartphone Hour for the first time and internally screaming "IF THEY KILL MICHAEL IN A FIRE, I KILL THEM."  
> (yes. i know rich doesn't have red hair. you will rip that (and most of my other) headcanons from my cold dead hands.)  
> I might write more in this universe if people like it/i have motivation/i get requests +ideas?? that remains To Be Seen.  
> But srsly, if y'all wanna comment ideas for this universe?? Do it?? And I might write them??  
> Hit me up @doingthewritethings on Instagram. Literally just come scream at me about musicals or whatever, really. I will respond and cherish you.  
> Comments are highly appreciated!!


End file.
